ed, not if every hair of his head was strung with diamonds!"

The visualization of this unpleasant picture threw Eleanor into peals of
laughter which upset the carefully acquired angle of the new hat, to say
nothing of the nerves of the young gentleman just arrived in the hall
below.

"I wasn't thinking of his looks only," she said; "I mean everything about
him."

"Why, I guess it's whether he notices me," said Rose after deliberation.

"Exactly," agreed Eleanor. "Not only you or me, but girls. Take Cass, for
instance; girls might just as well be broomsticks to Cass, all except Fan
Loomis. Now, when Captain Phipps looks at you----"

"He never would," said Rose; "he'd look straight over my head. I'll tell
you who is a better example--Mr. Graham."

Eleanor smiled reminiscently. "Oh, Sergeant Slim? _he's_ thrilled, all
right! Always looks as if he couldn't wait a minute to hear what you are
going to say next."

"He's not as susceptible as he looks," Rose pronounced from her
vantage-point of seniority. "He's just got a way with him that fools
people. Cass says girls are always crazy about him, and that he never
cares for any of them more than a week."

"Much Cass knows about it!" said Cass's cousin, pulling on her long
gloves. Then she dismissed the subject abruptly: "Rose, if I tell you
something will you swear not to tell?"

"Never breathe it."

"Captain Phipps is coming up to Baltimore for the Easter vacation."

"Does your grandmother know?"

"I should say _not_. She's written Miss Hammond that I'm not to receive
callers without permission, and that all suspicious mail is to be
opened."

"How outrageous! You tell Captain Phipps to send his letters to me; I'll
get them to you. They'll never suspect my fine Italian hand, with my name
and address on the envelope."

Eleanor looked at her older cousin dubiously. "I hate to do underhand
things like that!" she said crossly.

"You wouldn't have to if they treated you decently. Opening your letters!
The idea! I wouldn't stand for it. I'd show them a thing or two."

Eleanor stood listlessly buttoning her glove, pondering what Rose was
saying.

"I wonder if I could get word to the Captain to-night?" she said. "Shall
I really tell him to send the letters to you?"

"No; tell him to bring them. I'm crazy to see what his nibs looks like."

"He looks like that picture of Richard Mansfield downstairs--the one
taken as _Beau Brummel_. He's the most fastidious man y